Hiding the Pizza

            One night a week I go to my friend Rachel’s house and we have a girl’s night full of laughter and just good times. On these nights I still expect my children to eat dinner and I leave my husband in charge of this. Frozen pizza is as far as his culinary skills reach so I have a few tucked into the freezer for such occasions. I took my son Adam to the store with me on one of my shopping trips. He was maybe four years-old at the time. He is helpful and reminds me of things that I am forgetting or that have simply escaped my attention, things such as candy, doughnuts and cookies which I don’t usually buy anyway because I have absolutely no control of myself around such amazing treats. It might appear that I am a really good mom by keeping such crap away from my children, which I am, but the truth is that I am a weak, weak woman. On this particular trip I put a couple of frozen pizzas in our cart then asked Adam if he knew why his dad made frozen pizza for them on the nights I am gone. He looked at me for a second as if contemplating answering me, as if he knew the answer but didn’t want to tell me. This confused me for sure. Finally, after a little thought he tells me what I can only assume he thought was a huge secret. “Dad makes them when you’re gone so you can’t have any” is the answer my son finally gives me. It seems that he is tattling on my husband for not sharing with me. I tell him that since I am the one who does the shopping that I obviously know that said pizzas are in our home and that since I don’t have any in the duration of the week that I probably am good with the fact that Adam and the rest of the men in the house eat pizza without me and that I am not upset about this. He just shakes his little head as if conveying to me that I am a little confused about the motives of my husband and the missing pizza. I appreciate his truthfulness in this matter.